Gradually
by i-am-mudblood
Summary: Yet another imprisonment story; we've heard it all before, Zuko and Katara are trapped together yada yada yada. But when you get past the cliches and repeats, there just might actually be something worth reading. (When both are captured during Day of Black Sun and their lives suddenly collide, will they resist or intertwine?)
1. Chapter 1

**author's note:** My current readers are going to hate me for this, but I'm starting a new story! I know, I know... I barely have time for _New_ _Buds_ and _Nuances_ as it is, but I just couldn't not start this. Of course, I'm going to continue to juggle my other fics in with this. Just bear with me!

This takes place during Day of Black Sun. Zuko and Katara end up making some pretty dumb mistakes and are - of course - imprisoned together! Yeah, yeah, as Zutarians, we've heard it before. There're probably hundreds of fics focusing on these two imprisoned together. But let's try to get past the cliches and really make this fic something special! Why? Because i-am-mudblood wrote it, of course!

And drop reviews because reasons.

**disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA for obvious reasons. If I did, why tf would I be writing fanfics if I could be making this a reality.**

* * *

Inhale.

Observe.

Ozai stands, anger turning the air around him into hot, bright electricity. Unbelievably—or rather, unashamedly—the firelord begins to move his arms and hands, focusing on the electricity, and running the coursing power through his body to get a general feel of it.

Zuko can hardly believe it. Once more, Ozai is threatening to kill him. The fire prince prepares to be struck, calming himself and staring as his father absorbs the flickering blue light, gathering it into him.

_You can do this Zuko. You can survive._

Just minutes ago, the sun had been blocked by the moon; the firebenders rendered powerless. Just minutes ago, Zuko had felt sucked dry of power, or protection, but at least then he'd been in the possession of two sturdy blades. Not to mention he was a rather skilled hands-on martial artist, sure he could take his father while bending was unusable.

After eight measly minutes, Zuko can feel, quite like a wave hitting him head on, the dizzying yet relieving sun strengthening him. Yet he isn't relieved. Dread weighs him down as he turns to see the bloodthirsty glare adorning his father's savagely livid face.

All at once, the lightning is coming.

Zuko reacts as quickly as he can, aiming his hand outward to absorb the energy through his fingertips and gradually guide it through his body.

Only he isn't fast enough.

* * *

Appa soars over a band of helpless firebenders, bearing Katara. She pats the bison and orders, "Appa, stay high, don't let them get you! I'm going on foot."

In response, Appa grumbles.

Katara hops off his back and soars through the air toward the ground, a grim look of determination aimed at the floor beneath her. Seconds before she hits the surface, she bends water and splashes down, quickly forming ice and riding the wave towards the battle scene.

Sokka isn't so far ahead, and she can see her father battling farther off, accompanied by Haru and Toph. Farther on are a few more from their group that she can't quite make out in all the chaos.

At once, she melts the ice and lands cleanly on the balls of her feet, crouching low. She takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the plot of water just a few meters away, trying to grasp hold of enough of the liquid to formulate a great wave—

"Miss!"

Troubled from her thoughts, Katara blinks and shifts to catch sight of the voice, taking a defensive position. There are a few straggling firebenders around, but they aren't near enough, and even so, they're powerless. The real battle is farther up where her brother and father are.

Suddenly, she spots someone. A boy, a teenager, crumpled under a tank that's been toppled over. His Fire Nation helmet has fallen and rolled away from him. His face is scared, soft, unrecognizable.

Katara's defensive stance loosens and she drops her hands to her side. This boy is no threat. He's just hurt. "Why are you calling me?" she asks, keeping her voice as hard and cold as she can muster.

The boy winces, his reddish brown eyes harboring tears. "Please help me! I never wanted this! I'm from the colonies, and they took me to fight for them and—Agni, my legs hurt."

"Why should I trust you?" she asks sharply, although all the fight in her has faded. After a few moments of silence, she exhales and glances towards the battle. They seem to be gaining the upper hand. No one would notice if she… "Alright fine, I'll help you." She nears his face, causing him to draw back uncomfortably. "But you better swear that once you're out, you'll go crawl back to your little colonies without so much as a glance backward. Is that understood?"

"Yes!"

Katara nods grudgingly and summons a blade of water to slice easily through the metal vehicle on top of him. Once it has been removed, she checks the battle again before impatiently bending over to help him up.

All at once, something feels wrong. The thought clouds her mind as she grasps the boy's hand to hoist him to his feet.

His hand grows warmer and rather than stand, he remains on the floor. She looks down in shock to see a grin on his smug face. In one move, he yanks her down.

In another move, she is unconscious.

* * *

Ozai stares down at his writhing son with icy, unforgiving eyes. For a moment, the boy stops moving to glare up at his father.

"You asked for it, my son," the firelord says in an offhand manner, his tone lacking regret and concern. "It seems after all these years you still don't know the meaning of respect."

Zuko can only muster a few more seconds of consciousness before blacking out.

* * *

Katara dreams of white hot pain licking up her arm, of screams, of the faint light of the sun peeking out from some unidentifiable black orb, and of her own vision blurring rapidly.

The last thing she remembers is a yell so faint and distant that it could have been her imagination. "Katara!"

It seems like minutes have passed when she blinks her eyes open again. The vast expanse of the blue sky has been replaced by a low hanging ceiling, deep brownish red and appearing to crumble. She moves slightly only to moan in frustration; her head feels as if it weighs more than the rest of her body.

Katara lifts her head to examine her surroundings more carefully. A large room before her with metal floors and walls; the crumbly rock ceiling is out of place, and precariously so. There are two bunk beds, spread on opposite sides of the room, and in the center a wooden table that's been bolted to the ground. There's not much else. No windows, no paintings or furnishing, and only one door - a heavy-looking metal one with a floor-level slit and a small window blocked by thin iron bars.

"Rise and shine, princess."

All at once, dread fills her insides.

The huge metal door opens and in steps a sheathed guard, covered head to toe in the usual fire nation garb. But there's something leaner and smaller about him, something unnerving, as if at any moment he could lash out.

"Have a nice nap?"

"Who are you?" Katara spits defensively, sitting up as quickly as her sore body can muster. "Where am I?"

The guard leans on one of the metal walls and crosses his arms carelessly. "You're at the Brig, water fowl."

Katara reaches for her water skin - only it's not there. She mentally slaps her forehead. Of course they wouldn't leave her with any type of weapon. She examines the room for another source of liquid, only to realize just how dry and dusty the air is. Her eyes raking over her visitor acidly, Katara says, "Let me out of here."

"Why would I do that?"

"Fine. Don't. Aang and Sokka are probably already on their way here," she instinctively grabs a length of hair and runs her fingers through it. It's a habit she performs when she's either nervous or impatient.

The guard watches her before letting out a low laugh. Pushing himself from the wall, he stands, his arms dropping to his sides. "I highly doubt your friends are coming."

Katara opens her mouth to retort but instead squints her eyes, studying the guard carefully. "I know your voice." She says, her feet dropping from the bed she's on. She hoists herself up and bends closer, approaching him cautiously. "You... you're-"

The guard removes his helmet to expose a grinning teenager.

The waterbender stops in her tracks and suddenly her memories resurface. "You."

"Me," he replies.

"I helped you back there. I saved your life." She's still confused; her memories are mixed and blurry and her head is still incredibly pained, but she thinks she has a general idea of what happened. "I bent over to help you up... and you..." Trailing off, she meets his smug eyes with a look of incredulity.

"Welcome to the Brig, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe."

* * *

"He needs a healer, sir."

"I don't care what he needs!" As Ozai's temper flares, the wall of flames around him soars higher. "That boy is a menace, a traitor, and he will be punished as such. He is no longer my son and no longer my problem."

Admiral Fen is still kneeling, his nose just brushing the ground, his eyes wide with fear. Despite his shaking fingers, he refuses to let any member of the Royal Family simply die. "Firelord Ozai, your grace, with all due respect, your blood still courses through him. Please show some mercy in granting him life and I will personally ship him to the farthest island from here."

There is a pause before the flames lower and Ozai steps out. His long black hair seems to be frizzing with electricity. "You dare defy me, _Admiral_?"

"No sir, I would never-"

"You dare disrespect me in my own throne room? In my own _palace?_" His voice heightens ridiculously, his eyes bulging with anger.

Admiral Fen presses his forehead to the floor, his eyelids dragging down. In a low and cautious tone, he responds, "I serve you and only you, Firelord Ozai."

Another pause. The admiral refuses to look up as he listens to the furious crackle of the flames. Finally, Ozai replies. "Fine. You want the boy to live? Let him live. He will serve a life of misery. Find him a healer and throw him in the Brig."

His mouth opens and closes. "Yes, Firelord Ozai." Standing, bowing, and exiting, Admiral Fen thinks regrettably that he should've let the prince die.

* * *

_I miss Dad._

_I miss Sokka._

_I miss Toph._

_I miss Suki._

_I miss Aang._

Katara strokes her hair determinedly. Her cell is pitch black now; there are no lanterns or torches in the hallway outside her door, and the complete and utter feeling of silence is all too terrifying. She feels wholly alone in every sense of the word.

The other three beds sit unoccupied, only frightening her more. The waterbender was never one to fear spirits; rather, she embraced the thought of them, but she did hate being reminded of Sokka, Aang, and Toph, who would have each taken a bed.

It's been three days.

She has been fed once, about a day and a half ago, and the meal hadn't been too spectacular. A bowl of rice and tough meet accompanied by a cup of cold tea. The tea was bitter and strong, and when she complained about it, the guard had informed her they hadn't used water.

Water.

Being so alienated from her element, Katara feels weak and helpless. She longs to feel the strength of the moon flowing into her, to even taste something so crisp.

It's only been three days and she feels like she's losing it.

Even Yue wouldn't be able to see her in such a dark place.

Katara sits in self pity for a few more moments, staring at the metal wall. Everything is cold and lifeless in this prison and she hasn't seen a human being in forty hours. All she wants is one comfort, just one! That's not too much to ask. She has one thin, threadbare blanket and one flattened pillow. She has no friends, no family, not even comforting thoughts.

_They're looking for me,_ she assures herself. _Only a few more days and I'll be out of here._ She realizes this a hopeless and spoiled request; how naive of her to _expect_ a savior to drop in and sweep her out of here. Yet she's not ready to face the reality that she could be in here more than a couple of days.

There are footsteps.

Fearfully, Katara shrinks into the corner of her bed. A faint light illuminates the hall, growing brighter and brighter, and Katara fears the worst. She wonders if maybe they're going to beat her, or transfer her, or blindfold her. A faint twinge of hope in the back of her thoughts thinks maybe they've brought food.

The metal door opens with a heavy creak and something large is tossed in. There's a groan of pain before the metal door shuts and locks. From behind the barred window, the guard sneers, "Sorry to wake you, water fowl, but I brought you a little company. By decree of Firelord Ozai, you are to heal your little friend there back to health."

Bewildered, Katara stands on her feet, aiming a pointed finger at the figure on the ground. "I am no servant of Firelord Ozai! And why should I heal him anyway? I don't know who this is." Another thought occurs to her. "I don't even have _water._"

"Once a day, under strict surveillance you will be led to the infirmary where you will work on this dirtbag's wounds. Is that understood?"

"I don't have to listen to you," she says defiantly.

"You'll do what I say."

"Or what?"

He tosses a nod to the crumpled person. "I'll kill him."

Katara hesitates. For one thing, she has no idea who in the world that could be and honestly knows just by his attire that he must be Fire Nation. Who cares if he dies? He's obviously Fire Nation and therefore her enemy. She doesn't know him and certainly doesn't care to, so why should she trouble herself?

On the other hand, Katara is anything but a murderer. She can't imagine living out the rest of her life- however long that might end up being- knowing that some unfortunate soul has died because of her pride.

In an unsure voice, the waterbender says, "You don't have the authority to kill someone whom Ozai wants to live."

"You don't know anything," the guard replies haughtily. "Firelord Ozai wants this man dead. It was only by his good grace that he allowed this skunkbag to live, and he told me personally that he cares not if this soul lives. It's your call."

Firelord Ozai wants this man dead. Any enemy of the threat is a friend of hers.

She lowers her eyes to the crumpled figure. "I'll do it."

A ghost of a smirk.

Katara clenches her fists. "But I want answers! Where am I really and who is this?"

"Like I said before, you're in the Brig. As for him-" he tosses another nod, "he's a traitor of our country and from this day forth, a failure. Actually, no, I take that back. He's always been a failure."

"I want names."

The guard wraps his fingers around two of the metal bars and leans forward. "Ever heard of Prince Zuko?"

* * *

FINISHED. BAM.

I'm so tired but I honestly wanted to get this chapter up to at least 3,000! ): Oh well. I think this'll probably be my shortest chapter, seeing as I'm going to try to at least please my readers. Okay, btw, you're not allowed to leave until you drop a review! Peace!


	2. Chapter 2

**author's note:** Another short chapter, guys. They're both on edge because of the circumstances so this chapter will include a lot of strife and arguments and whatnot. Read and review!

**disclaimer: disclaimed**

* * *

Zuko wakes to a dark room and a cold floor. Figures. Of course his father wouldn't spare his only son something as deserving as comfort.

Still, the prince is glad he'd at least survived.

Shifting slightly, Zuko feels something over him. The feeling is faint and barely recognized over the immense pain in his chest and shoulder, but it's there.

A blanket.

Bewildered, the prince wonders which guard had the kindness to cover him for the night and makes a mental note to find out whom. In the mean time, he chooses to remain on the ground and try to wince away the pain as he falls asleep.

Just as his eyelids weigh down on themselves, he hears someone. It's faint, a mumble, a murmur almost, and in a flash he's wide awake. The jolt he makes causes his injury to escalate with pain and he cries out.

Rolling over, the blanket slipping off him, the prince—or ex-prince, for that matter—grits his teeth and clutches his shoulder. At his touch, the wound vibrates and stings, almost as if the lightning itself is hitting him a second time. Knowing no one will be able to hear him in this jail, Zuko groans in intense pain.

Suddenly, there are fingers on him. Fingers peeling off his tunic and undershirt. Zuko tries to move away but the sting shoots up to his brain and he cries out for the third time, wrestling helplessly. The person successfully has off his shirt and is prodding his collarbone, his shoulder; their fingers soft and cool and small.

It occurs to him somewhere foggily in the recesses of his mind that maybe, just _maybe_, his father had cared about him enough to order a doctor to look after him. The thought confuses Zuko enough to get him to stop wrestling and allow the fingers to gently locate the wound. In a second, they're tracing the contour of the injury. He hears a let down sigh.

"I won't be able to work on this until tomorrow morning." The voice is tight and venomous with only a slight trace of an apology.

He's startled at the familiarity of its content but is too fatigued and pained to truly remember. "Did my father hire you?" he asks in a raspy voice.

"More like kidnap," the girl responds, annoyed.

"Where are we? It's so dark."

The girl sighs again, her fingers trembling. She helps him back into his clothing and backs away altogether. He can feel her nearby but otherwise has no idea where she is considering the lack of light. He grits his teeth as he pulls his tunic tight over him; it stretches over his shoulder wound, forcing him to exhale borderline violently.

He stiffens as a blanket is laid over him.

Relaxing a bit, he murmurs just over his breath, "Do I know you at all?"

There's a pause. "You don't know who I am?" There's doubt and maybe some offence sprinkled in her tone and he fears maybe he's gone and said something boneheaded.

"It's too dark to see—" He considers lighting a flame but decides against it. The hurt in his shoulder and chest are barely bearable enough without crying out and he knows he won't be able to muster enough energy to bend.

"Zuko, I can honestly say that we've never known each other." There's the sound of a mattress being pressed on and he decides she must be on a bed just above him. "We've never met, but I can tell you that we don't like each other."

He frowns. "What?"

"You need some rest," she says, her voice a little more weary than gentle. "In the morning we'll have a healing session…" under her breath, but still clearly heard by Zuko, she mumbles, "…and hopefully they'll have a new cell ready for you."

He bites back a response and succumbs to the pain and fatigue before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Katara stares up at the endless darkness above her. She feels no remorse that Zuko is sleeping on the cold metal floor. If anything, it's his fault for being too heavy for her to carry. It doesn't matter anyways, let Tui judge her. She at least had laid a blanket over his shivering figure if that counted for anything.

She wonders how to go about this. She's hungry and weak and empty inside. Zuko was the last person she needed right now, the last person she would have chosen to be beside her. Yet here he was, and she didn't know what to make of it.

He needs help and she can provide it. She's in power. He's in pain.

With that comforting thought in her mind, she lulls herself to sleep, at least glad that the day ahead of her will include bending and healing. She longs to feel cool water on her parched skin—even if that water will be used to heal a boy she has no intention of associating with.

She sleeps.

* * *

The sun is up but no one in this prison can tell day from night. Zuko is still sleeping soundlessly, his chest rising and falling hesitantly, constricting at the slightest sign of pain. He falls back to earth when the screaming starts.

When he opens his eyes, he notices the cell is slightly brighter but still significantly dim. The hallway outside the metal door is illuminated with torches, but only a bit of light seeps into the large, cold room. He looks up to locate the screaming. Above him is a bunk bed and he supposes that's where the girl must be.

She's howling her head off. Agni, even he hadn't made this much noise when he'd been struck by lightning. He's under the impression that she's facing dream horrors right now and figures it would just be easier to let her scream it out and wake herself up.

After ten seconds, he caves in.

Gripping his shoulder and squeezing shut his eyes, the firebender tries with all desperation to pick himself up off the ground. The floor is slick and icy, completely unhelpful to his cause. Halfway up, a sharp sting shoots into the center of his wound and he growls, his elbow buckling under the pressure.

The screaming stops as his elbow buckles and he hits the floor sideways. His shoulder bounces up and he yells out a shout of frustration and pain. There are a few moments of silence before two bright blue eyes peer out from over the side of the bed, eyeing him.

He feels himself turn numb, frowning up at the guest.

Somewhere, her name registers at the back of his mind but his mouth is so full of mush it's pointless.

Her face is tired and agitated, even wary, and she watches him with extreme dislike. "Did you fall?" she asks lowly.

He nods.

"How?"

Zuko speaks up. "What are you _doing_ here?"

She seems impatient. She kicks her feet off the bed and lands on the ground beside him, tucking her legs underneath her as she sits. "Look. I don't like you and I'm _positive_ you don't like me. So I'll just do my job and we can hopefully get out of here alive."

"Your _job?_"

Tears come to her eyes quickly. She glares at him and sniffs, reaching for his tunic. "Just let me check your wound—"

With all the energy he can muster, he backs away. "Where am I?" he demands. "Was I captured? Did my father hand me over to you?" He grabs a fistful of his hair and closes his eyes. "This is all wrong! This isn't how it was supposed to be!"

"What are you shouting about?" Katara yells.

"I was supposed to be _good!_" Emotions fill Zuko, reminding him how unfair everything seemed to be. "I was supposed to join your side! I wasn't supposed to be captured—I didn't even get to speak with—this is all wrong!"

Katara doesn't know why, but his outburst affects her. The tears spill down her face. After so little exposure to _anything_, this display of emotions has her on edge. She fumbles for his tunic, sniffing and rubbing her cheeks with the shoulder of her own dress. "You're crazy," she mumbles in a wavering voice.

His outburst has exhausted all his energy and he leans tired against the floor, an arm over his eyes. "I was supposed to be good," he insists quietly.

She opens his shirt and stares at the wound, too emotional to think clearly. She shakes her head and replies, "Save your lies for later, Zuko."

He inhales through his nose, sucking in the tears.

* * *

The guards come hours later, fully prepared to escort the fire prince and his healer to the infirmary. They find Zuko unconscious on the floor and Katara tirelessly prodding at his wound.

"What is this?" asks one of the guards, pointing at the scene.

Katara stands and faces them with worn defiance. "The pain knocked him out. It was too much for him to bear."

"Is he still alive?"

She cringes at how casually he asks, as if it doesn't really matter. Grimly, she nods, casting a backwards glance at Zuko's crumpled body.

"Alright." The head guard nods to the other two, who go over to carry him. Katara follows them—backed by yet another guard—down the long hallway. She feels she hasn't used her legs in ages and has to shake them continuously.

The infirmary is ridiculously lit, too bright for her eyes that have become sensitive to light. She spots a large basin of water and tries to conceal her excitement and relief; the very idea of dipping her cracked fingers into the cool liquid makes her sigh.

"You have one hour here," the guard says. "You will be watched every minute from outside the doorway. If you make one false move, you will be apprehended. Is that clear?"

She nods dismissively, eager to use her bending.

The guards leave the room, closing and locking the metal door that is similar to her cell door. One of the guards leans on it from the outside, looking in.

She approaches the basin. Zuko has been placed there, leaning against the side with his eyes closed and his body sprawled. She laughs sharply at the ridiculousness of it all.

The water feels unbelievably clean and crisp, complete ecstasy. She plays with it for a bit, sharpening her unused skill, and drinks some. Finally, she turns her attention to the patient. She feels his head and heart; he's burning up but has a steady beat. Removing the clothes from his torso, she lies him on his back and is able to properly inspect the wound.

The intense light illuminates the gore that is his shoulder. The flesh is mangled and torn, red, and dried blood clogs up any gaps. The injury extends almost to his chest, just barely reaching the edge of his collarbone, and gradually disintegrates from there.

She takes a deep breath. This isn't the first time she's seen a lightning wound.

Possibly, however, it could be the worst.

She coats her hand with water and presses it over his wound, almost drawing away when she feels the massive block-up of chi. This isn't a one day job; this will be work that could take up to months.

She does what she can within the span of an hour and allows the guards to lead her back to the cell. She can feel her future stretching out before her. First, months of nothing but healing Zuko, months of no food and no freedom, months of imprisonment. Afterward, there's two ways to go. Years of imprisonment or death.

The guards place Zuko on the bottom bunk and Katara stares at him long after they've gone and locked the door. She knows he won't be given his own cell. She won't have privacy or comfort for a long while, possibly till the end.

As long as he needs healing, she will be kept alive, and that flicker of hope is enough to get her to cross the room to the other bunk bed and settle down, staring at him from yards away with dull blue eyes.

* * *

Zuko regains consciousness and is amazed at how much better he feels. Although his shoulder still is definitely messed up, he can move at ease. He can even stand and walk around as long as he doesn't put so much pressure on his wound.

She's staring at him.

She's on the other side of the seemingly large cell, turned on her side as she rests on the bottom bunk, her dull blue eyes resting on him. He sits up and stretches his spine, retracting immediately when his shoulder resists a little. He knows it must be her who must've helped him.

Instead of a thank-you, he asks, "How long have I been out?"

The waterbender blinks slowly and pulls the blanket to her neck. "A couple of hours."

All of this is strange. Just days ago they were mortal enemies and now they're in close proximity without being at each other's throats. In fact, she's responsible for his life now. How does one act in his position?

He advances, flinching when she seems to stiffen. He stops halfway across the room. "I just wanted to say thank you."

She scrutinizes him. "There's no need."

"I would have died—"

"It's not my call," she says sharply.

He furrows his eyebrows in contemplation. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to waste any of your precious time _rotting_ in here."

She yanks off her blanket. "You—" At a loss for words, she crosses the room halfway and shoves a finger in his face. "You scumbag! You absolute waste of—" She trails off, anger poring out of her.

"Are you going to finish that sentence?" he urges, crossing his arms—and wincing a little when his fingers brush his shoulder.

Katara seems to deflate. He notes exactly how worn out she's gotten. Her hair's in disarray and her eyes have bags. She isn't holding herself up the way she usually does and the defiance and determination, although slightly present, are nearly completely gone from her fatigued features. In one last attempt to appear strong, she says, "Just stay out of my way."

"That's going to be a little difficult, if you haven't noticed." He gestures to the room. "We're _trapped_ like a bunch of animals! And for what? We're probably going to end up dead in a week."

She glares at him resentfully before turning to walk back to her bed.

"What's _with_ you?" he bursts, growing angrier at her offhandedness. "I wouldn't have expected you of all people to give up so soon in the fight."

"You don't know anything about me," she hisses wearily.

"I don't need to. It's in your eyes. You've given up."

She whirls around, her face tired yet flaming. "I've been here for five days! That doesn't sound like a lot, but they've fed me _once_ and won't even tell me where in Tui's name I am! I haven't seen my family since the invasion, and every night I dream about them. I dream about Aang and Sokka and Suki and Toph dying while I'm trapped in here—and I don't even know! I have no comforts, nothing familiar, not to mention now I'm supposed to help save the precious fire prince." She stares at the ground, her eyebrows furrowing. "Not that you would understand."

His arms have uncrossed and fallen at his sides. He turns his head to the side at her last comment. Quietly, because he can't have her hate him, because he _must_ somehow get them out of here to join the Avatar against his father, he decides to comfort her. "You can't give up."

"I can't do much of anything, can I?" she spits.

Agitated yet suppressing his temper, he says, "You're a waterbender and I'm a fire bender. We're both skilled. We can break out of here."

"Do you see any water around?" she asks angrily. "And no offense, but you're not in the best condition to muscle your way against a bunch of guards." Her voice is venomous and a bit biting.

As she makes her way slowly back to her bed, Zuko thunders, "At least I'm trying to be productive! All you do is mope around like a snail sloth!"

She ignores him and rolls into her bed, facing the wall away from him.

"You're the one always preaching about hope!" he reminds her, hoping to revive her inner fire.

She doesn't respond.

In a fit of irritation, he closes the distance between them and stands over her lower bunk. "What's gotten into you? I know you're not weak, I know you don't give up so easily. And don't say I don't know anything about you because what I do know is what I'm certain of."

"There's no hope," she says sadly.

"Pull yourself together, Katara!"

Zuko verbally saying Katara's name seems to infuriate her. She sits up and thunders, "I was taken here by a Fire Nation soldier! I didn't recognize him at first, but I do now, and I don't know what to think!"

Zuko frowns. "A Fire Nation soldier? You know him?"

"His name is Jet," she replies, tears streaming down her face. "And he isn't the same."

* * *

I know I'm going to get some confused reviews regarding that last little bit about Jet. Bear with me, guys. The next chapter will explain everything - why she didn't recognize him at first and what he's doing in the Fire Nation and yeah. Now to reply to reviewers!

** KnivesAndPens13: **Thanks! As for the liquid part, Katara _has_ used sweatbending before in the episode The Runaway as an attempt to escape their wooden cell. But what you have to understand is that this particular cell she's in right now is nearly completely metal and, although Bryke has proven that a strong amount of water can slice through metal, sweat is definitely out of the question. Therefore she isn't able to escape on the use of sweat alone. It's also been proven that skilled waterbenders can pull water out of the air, but I mentioned that the air is dry and dusty because there's no water in it.

** HarukaChan143: **Haha well I appreciate the long review. About your thoughts on how she should initially act towards Zuko: by this time you've probably read that the Fire Nation soldier who backstabbed her wasn't Fire Nation at all but Jet. So that's something. Also, by the time Zuko is thrown in her cell, she's already spent almost four days in the prison without company, light, and _very _little food, AND not being connected to her element. Plus the fact that she's recovering from a head injury. PLUS the fact that she has traumatizing nightmares every night. So at this point, Katara's pretty shaken up and "out of it", which explains her lack of motivation to escape and lack of extreme hatred towards Zuko- for the time being. As we continue along, I'm sure Katara's head will clear and at that point she'll be a little more aware of where she is, who she's with, and how she should react.

^continued: As for your summary, that's funny actually because I am going to be sending them to a different location. Let's just say a little natural disaster in the Brig will force the guards to move the prisoners to another place. Not necessarily going to be the Boiling Rock because, of course, they have to take into account that she could easily manipulate the boiling waters, but it will be an isolated location.


	3. Chapter 3

**author's note: **sorry i haven't been updating a lot. i make no promises because college apps, but i will try to update more frequently. if you are a reader of my most popular story_** New Buds,**_ and are waiting for an update, please be more patient because I have just been feeling more Zutara-ish than Irosami-ish lately.

Read and review!

* * *

Zuko stares into the darkness, barely able to see the outline of Katara lying on her own bunk on the other side of the cell. Her chest rises and falls slowly in rhythm with her deep breathing. He is pleased that she isn't a snorer, yet there is still plenty of time in the night for night terrors to have her screaming again.

Jet.

Katara had been a hapless wreck earlier. He winced as he recalled her balled up fists and crouched position as she cried. "Jet was our friend!" Her tears had fallen heavy and hot and Zuko could only watch with awkward pity.

But now, only after Katara had tired herself into sleep, did Zuko recognize the name. Jet. The boy from Ba Sing Se. Angry eyebrows with the weapons, the one who had threatened to have Zuko and Iroh thrown in jail—or worse.

It couldn't possibly have been the same Jet. What were the odds that this lunatic could have known the Avatar and his friends? Zuko shakes his head and rolls onto his side, his eyes fixed on Katara's steady breathing movement. He knows it's creepy, watching someone sleep, but he likes her better this way; calm and quiet, not threatening in the least bit.

The covers slip off him and onto the floor. Zuko bends to retrieve them, only to inhale sharply at the sudden pain. His shoulder is definitely a lot better than its condition a day ago, but far from fully recovered. The mangled flesh had been cleaned of blood and pus, yet the bandage still conceals a physically disgusting wound. The lightning had scratched away at his bones and left a deep, flaring rip in his skin.

Grimacing, Zuko rolls back onto the mattress and clutches at his bandaged shoulder. The pillow feels hot under his damp hair. As the pain slowly ebbs away, he wishes for several things. He wishes for food, for water, and to see Mai.

Mostly, though, he wishes he could have done everything differently. The whole point of leaving his father's influence was to join the Avatar and earn their friendship and trust; but now, being thrown in this prison with the most hostile of the entire group, things have taken a turn for the worse. He wonders how he'll be able to convince Katara of his true nature under such circumstances.

Worst case scenario: she assumes he is making up tales due to the unfortunate situation that they've ended up together, and ultimately chooses to shun him.

As fearful thoughts swirl his head and cloud his mood, sleep drags him under.

* * *

Katara wakes first. There is still no sign of daylight in the pitch black cell, yet Katara is faintly able to sense the absence of the moon in the sky. She makes to move off her bed but freezes; her stomach groans loudly in protest and the pain causes her to fall back onto her pillow. She hasn't eaten in so long.

She lies there for several minutes deliberating what to do next. Her determination and longing for freedom is to the point of breaking; Katara doesn't even feel like she has enough strength to face another dreary day of imprisonment.

A rueful thought floats through her mind. _My friends will never rescue me._

Her thoughts are interrupted by the banging of boots on metal floor. Fear seizes her, yet there is also the buried thought that perhaps food is on its way. The steps from the hallway grow louder as they near, and soon Zuko is awoken, just as torchlight appears behind the bars of their thick metal barrier.

The hazy glow of the fire illuminates Jet's features. There is a smug look on his unpleasantly harsh face. He says nothing as he stoops down and slides a tray under the space of the door. There is a pause of silence followed by another tray.

Katara can see Zuko glance at her in his peripherals.

She wants to run to the food and fill her empty stomach, but she waits.

Jet's eyes slice through the darkness and make contact with hers. He looks stronger than he's ever looked, and crueler. "Good morning, water fowl," he greets, then pauses. "Or—I suppose you wouldn't know that."

_Jet_. She looks away, waiting for him to leave.

He doesn't. He slides the torch into some compartment on the outside wall and clutches the bars. "Are you enjoying your time in here? I know you must be hungry… I would have fed you sooner, but, well, I had more important things on my mind."

She clutches the blanket and glares at the floor.

"What? You're not going to talk to me? What about my morning kiss?" She winces and he laughs cruelly. "What… don't tell me you've found someone else. Is it Royal Reject over here?" Jet turns now to fully face Zuko through the slits.

Zuko eyes daggers. "I thought you were arrested."

Jet hesitates before letting out a single, barking laugh. "I'm sorry?"

"In Ba Sing Se. I saw you get arrested."

This time, Jet's headstrong demeanor falters slightly and his expression blanks for a second. "What do you—"

"We're being called, sir," says an accompanying guard quickly. "The lieutenant is requesting us."

"Tell him to wait. I want to hear what scarface here is talking about."

"He says it's urgent, sir."

Jet grunts and grasps his torch, sending one final sneer through the bars. "Until next time."

Along with the retreating footsteps, the torchlight fades gradually until Katara and Zuko are once again plunged in heavy darkness. For a moment, there is no movement as both try to decide who will be the first to get to the food. Finally, Katara stands, keeping her eyes locked on the two trays as she drifts over.

As she reaches the food, Zuko waits for her to take her tray and return to her bunk so he can grab his own, but much to his surprise, she picks up both trays and heads towards him.

By the time she reaches him and sets down the tray on his lap, he is frozen.

Zuko doesn't dare speak in fear of waking her up from her seemingly dazed quality. She sits beside him on the bed and leans on one of the bunk posts, holding her tray and scraping up some food with her chopsticks. He examines her warily, taking note of her teary irises and eyebags.

After her third bite of food, she looks up straight at Zuko. He stiffens. She raises an eyebrow and says, "Your food is getting cold."

"Oh," he glances down at the tray in his lap as if just now realizing it were there. "Th-thank you." He picks at some fish and tries to conceal a smile. Perhaps time in this prison will be good for him; perhaps he can gradually persuade Katara that he _is_ a good guy, and eventually, upon their escape, be installed into the Avatar's gang.

Katara's next words are sharp. "Don't let this mean anything. I still don't trust you, or like you. But if we're going to be sharing living space for some time, then I'm not above common decency."

Zuko's heart falls. There goes that.

They eat in silence for a long while. Eventually someone comes and slides two hot cups of tea under the door. Katara sips it up and continues eating ravenously. Zuko eyes her like a hawk and bites his lip before speaking up. "You should really eat more slowly."

Her glare sears him through the veil of darkness.

"I mean, if your stomach is completely empty and you haven't eaten for days, then eating too much at once will make you throw up," he says, shrugging indifferently.

He pretends not to watch her, choosing instead to focus all of his energy on his food, but he is pleased when he notices in his peripherals that she is now carefully and slowly nipping at her meal.

After another long silence, Zuko reaches for his cup of tea. The drink is now lukewarm rather than hot and the aroma reminds Zuko of his uncle. The bittersweet memory of his uncle heating tea by firebending at the ferry docks in the earth kingdom surface, and the young prince closes his eyes.

Katara watches. With the intake of food to strengthen her, she can feel herself returning to her normal, determined, strong self. With her head now clear of thoughts of food, she is able to focus more directly on her situation. It is as if she's just now waking up.

The realization that she is sitting next to _the _Prince Zuko seems to hit her all at once. He's the same man—boy—teenager who had raided Kyoshi Island, followed them throughout the entire world, and on many occasions tried to hurt and capture Aang. He was also the same person who had shown a deeper, more emotional side to himself in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, who had softened his voice for his long lost mother. That had also been the same day Katara decided to use the remaining liquid in her vial of spirit water—an enormously precious amount of water—to cure Zuko's scar.

That day, he had won her trust, only to turn around and betray her.

Zuko opens his eyes again, seeming tired and distraught. Katara warily watches him as he lifts the cup to his lips and takes a long drink of tea.

Yesterday, this same person had been pleading for her to believe something bogus; that he had betrayed his own father to join their side, and that he must be forgiven.

Her eyes stay on him as he finishes his tea, painfully urges himself to stand, and takes their trays and cups to stack near their prison door.

She wishes she could read his mind and heart. Katara wants to know which side he is truly faithful to. She wants to know whether she can trust him fully, let all of her walls down, and confide in him as a friend.

But how can she, when his eyes remind her so much of the fire nation?

* * *

Hours pass. Katara moves back to her bunk and meditates to pass the time. She isn't really one to meditate, but she has watched Aang do it daily and thinks she understands the gist of it.

Zuko, meanwhile, has never felt more useless. His shoulder hinders him from doing basic stretches, and even pains him when he does something as simple as walk or lie down. He can't wait to have the Agni forsaken thing healed fully. Until then, a prison break is out of the question.

When they hear footsteps down the corridor, both prepare for the daily healing session. An armored guard leads them once more to the healing room, where they are locked in. The room is so brightly lit that it takes them several seconds to adjust. Zuko waits patiently, watching as Katara bends water to wash her hair and face and hands. He notices that in her element, she is a different person; much more focused and… happy.

Turning her attention to him, she bends a stream of water and guides it slowly to him. To his surprise, the water doesn't make contact with his wound, but his hair.

"What are you—"

"We only have access to water once every twenty four hours, and you aren't strong enough to give yourself a bath."

He stiffens and she rolls her eyes. "Don't worry," she mutters. "It's not like I'll do anything crude. Just your hair, face, and torso."

He closes his eyes and feels the pleasure of cold water cleansing him. She moves the water through his hair, then down his neck, carefully about the shoulders, then down his back and around to his chest, where she splits the current and covers both of his arms, hands, and then fingers.

In a moment, he can hear her throw the dirty water down the drain as she reaches for clean water. He opens his good eye and prepares for the sting of the water touching his warped wound. As it makes contact with his shoulder, a sharp ring pulses throughout his whole body, and the pain causes him to arch his back and grind his teeth. The initial shock fades gradually, leaving the wound throbbing.

Katara has never felt more in her element than now. With a full stomach, a clear mind, and the will of water under her fingertips for the first time in an entire day, she feels absolutely unstoppable. The feeling is addictive, but she tones it down and concentrates to find the center of Zuko's wound, the source of it. As she guides the liquid around, she can feel his stressed chi building up. "How does this feel?"

The relief of water circling his flesh is immense, but he can still feel that release that hasn't happened yet. There is still something holding him back. He knows if she can heal that pain and cause the release, he can begin to heal fully. "I can feel you nearing the source of it."

She nods. She can feel it too. The water moves around for a few more seconds before it hits the outside of a huge chi buildup. This is it. The source. Focusing immensely, Katara thins out the stream and allows the water to seep into the chi buildup. If she can break up this cluster of concentrated stress, then Zuko will be free to heal.

The door bangs open, startling both. "Time's up," says the guard, who is already halfway across the room to drag them out.

Katara stands defiantly. "But I was just on the verge of—"

"You'll have tomorrow," the guard interrupts dismissively.

"If I don't act now, his stress will cause the chi block-up to grow!" Katara insists furiously, throwing her finger in the direction of the prince.

The guard blanches, clearly at a loss of what to do.

"Now, now, what's going on in here? Ice princess, you're causing quite a scene." Jet enters, his arms folded. He isn't wearing his usual armor; rather, he is in normal fire nation attire. His hair is ruffled and his face is uncovered from a helmet; perhaps he has just woken up.

Katara glares at him for several seconds before saying, "Jet, please, Zuko's wound will only get worse if I don't work on it now." She feels hopeless pleading to someone who won't help her, but she thinks there's a chance that somewhere, deep down, he is the same boy who had feelings for her months ago.

Jet scrutinizes her with cold eyes.

Katara can't help but feel her heart swell. He looks so tousled and dangerous, and that was what had always drawn her to him. The fact that he could seem so bad but, in his heart, be good. She feels herself struggling to hate him.

His next words widen her eyes. "Apprehend the girl, bring the boy back to the cell."


End file.
